


A Little Hiccup

by indigo (indigo_angels)



Series: Mission Arc [13]
Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 05:49:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17861513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_angels/pseuds/indigo
Summary: Face has persistent hiccups - a PWP crossed with a comedic interlude.





	A Little Hiccup

Hannibal gaped, there was no other word for it – he simply gaped.

 

“What?” he finally forced out as Face continued to stare at him over folded arms. “You’re kidding, right?”

 

“No!” Was that an actual _foot stamp_ that went with that? “I’ve told you, Hannibal, this is no fucking laughing matter and the last thing I’m feeling right now is fucking sexy! You hear me???”

 

The words – clearly spoken as they were – still didn’t quite want to make sense in Hannibal’s lust-fuzzied brain and so he stuck with gaping, then reaching out to brush his knuckles down the front of Face’s fly.

 

“Get the fuck _*Hic*_ off me!” the angry indignation was somewhat spoilt by the squeaky little hiccup in the middle, but there was no mistaking Face’s actual step-back that left Hannibal's fingers groping fresh air, or the, “You fucking _octopus…_ ” that was hissed into the silence.

 

“Face…” oh, God, was he _whining_ now? Playing the kid at his own game? “But I’m _horny_ … we haven’t had sex in _three weeks._ What the fuck does it matter if you’ve got the hiccups?”

 

“ _Still_ got the hiccups, Hannibal. After thirty _*Hic*_ nine hours and twenty seven minutes,” Hannibal was impressed Face hadn’t looked at his watch for that. “I still have the fucking hiccups!”

 

Hannibal gaped again. He knew that; he’d been with the kid for every single one of those thirty nine hours and twenty seven minutes. He’d been there when Face had swallowed his water down the wrong way (and it was NOT Hannibal's fault, he’d only wanted a quick suck on the back of his lover’s neck before they’d thrown themselves into yet another death defying escape from some pretty pissed off insurgents, how was he to know the damn kid had been drinking out of his bottle at the time? What was he? A damn camel? And if he hadn’t been using a _straw,_ a fucking _pink_ straw at that, it would have been blatantly obvious that he was busy and Hannibal would have let him finish first _before_ he went for his suck.)

 

He’d also been there when had Face spluttered and choked and gagged and generally made a right song and dance show over a simple mouthful of H2O gone on a diversion. He’d been there when they were hiding behind a row of oil cans and suddenly it sounded like someone had stood on a fucking squeaky toy right next to him. He’d been there when they’d had to run their assess off with gunfire following them like angry bees after the bad guys heard Mr. Squeak and rumbled their hiding place. He’d sat through a chopper ride as Face went alternatively puce and blue trying to hold his breath for longer and longer periods of time. He’d been there in that debriefing when the kid had jumped and gulped and almost swallowed his fist in an attempt to keep the hiccs inside – failing so badly that Morrison actually sent him out. He’d been there all night, struggling to sleep in his cot with BA snoring one side and Face sounding like Alvin and the fucking Chipmunks on the other…

 

He’d _been_ there for all that, and it had been _awful_ and surely the kid was now joking when he said there was no sex to be had _as well_? They were only off base for twenty four hours!

 

“But kid…” he really couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I’m already hard!”

 

Face’s eyes opened wide in incredulity. “And what did you do about _*Hic*_ that before you had me?”

 

“Sorted it myself.”

 

“Well then, sort it yourself again!”

 

“I’m a colonel, Face! I shouldn’t have to get myself off!”

 

“Ex _*Hic*_ cuse me?” Face’s indignation was ruined by the squeaky little ‘hic’ that forced its way out of him. “What the fuck difference does _that_ make?”

 

Realising his mis-step, Hannibal tried to change direction. “It doesn’t. Just like your hiccups don’t make a difference either!” He was quite proud of how he’d turned that one around.

 

“It’ll make a difference _*Hic*_ ,” Face’s eyes were narrowed dangerously, “When you are sucking me off and I choke you by shoving my dick out the back of your throat with every damn hiccup!”

 

Hannibal shrugged. “So you don’t get blown! You could blow me instead.” That seemed like a great idea. An awesome idea in fact and Hannibal’s already interested cock swelled up a little in support of it.

 

“Yeah?” but somehow Face didn’t look that convinced. “You _*Hic*_ want to risk me BITING with a big one then? _*HIC!*_ ”

 

Jesus Christ, no… the little Colonel ran for the hills and tried to hide as Hannibal's excited grin morphed into pained. “Okay,” he wasn’t about to give up though. “Just the sex then. We could do that no problem at all.”

 

“Hannibal!” God, the kid could be petulant when he wanted to be. And stubborn. And cruel. And fucking asexual. “Maybe I just don’t _*Hic*_ _want_ to do it now!”

 

Hannibal spiced up his gaping routine with a side order of blinking in shock – he honestly never thought he’d hear those words leave Templeton Peck’s mouth. Ever. “Why?” Shit – he _was_ whining.

 

“Maybe the thought of hiccupping in time to your every _*Hic*_ thrust just isn’t doing it for me! Maybe I don’t want you to watch that, _see that_ ,” Face amended even as Hannibal opened his mouth to object, “while we’re _*Hic*_ fucking!”

 

Hannibal thought – that was a point, not that _he_ cared but he could see that Face, vain as he was, would have a problem with it. “Okay,” and, as ever, his fluid and sexually starved brain thought up a solution quick as a… hiccup. “I’ll take you from behind then,” he let his voice drop into _that_ purr. “Bend you over the drawers and take you hard and fast,” he felt the little Colonel scramble out of his cover and get battle-ready in an instant, “and I won’t see a thing! I’ll even do that thing with my dick that you really enjoy, so then you’ll make so much noise we won’t even notice the squeaky little hiccups!”

 

It was perfect – a perfect solution that Face would love and Hannibal would love and he could almost feel himself sliding into his boy’s silken heat, right up until the moment that Face barrelled into him and propelled him out of the bedroom and into the corridor, a choked, “Fuck _*Hic*_ you!” the only explanation he seemed likely to get.

 

________________

 

It was cold in the corridor, and humiliating as well to be standing there with a stubborn-as-hell hard-on, faking smiles and stories about lost keys to everyone who walked by. It was only when a lady with a little white handbag-dog under her arm patted him on the elbow as she passed with a, “I hate to tell you this dearie, but I think you have been jilted,” that he decided that a tactical retreat into Murdock and BA’s room would be a good idea. For now.

 

“I don’t understand it,” he told a wishing-he-was-deaf BA for the hundredth time. “He _likes_ sex. He _always_ likes sex. What’s he doing saying no? To _me_ as well?”

 

“What? You wish he was saying no to someone else?” Hannibal was back to gaping and BA shook his head turning back to the TV and turning the volume up on the Aussie Rules he was pretending to watch. “Maybe you just need to give the guy a little more sympathy. Maybe he just don’t want sex when all he can feel is his guts turning inside out every forty seconds.”

 

“But this is _Face_ ,” Since when did blue balls cause him to whine quite this much? “He always wants sex! There was this time once when we were in Paris, in the Palace of Versailles actually,” Hannibal chuckled a little at the memory. “And anyway, Face was horny, _really_ horny and so he said to me-”

 

“ _La, la, la, lada, lada, la_!” Hannibal froze at the rather surreal sight of BA, fingers jammed into both ears, eyes screwed tightly closed and _la-ing_ at the top of his voice, effectively drowning out Hannibal’s incredibly hilarious and inappropriate sex-with-Face-anecdote. “Not listening, not listening!” BA sang, even louder. “Get outta my face with your sex tales, man – I just don’t wanna know!”

 

“But BA-”

 

_“Heard it through the grapevine… not much longer would you be mine… ye-ah, I heard it through the grapevine…”_

 

BA had a nice voice, Hannibal usually liked to listen to the big guy singing, especially as he didn’t do it often, but right then it was just annoying. “BA!”

 

BA switched decade, turning the volume up as well, knowing what Hannibal hated. _“'Cause I can't wait much longer,_

_I know I got to be right now. 'Cause I can't get much wronger, Man I've been waitin' all night now…”_

 

“Corporal!” Hannibal's bellow was heard even above one of Kanye’s catchiest melodies and BA felt himself starting to panic. He didn’t care what his CO and XO got up to in the privacy of their own bed – or the Palace of Versailles for that matter – but if he ever had any of the d _etails_ , ever had anyone paint him a picture… shit, he’d have to scrub his brain out with bleach and then he’d probably end up as crazy as Murdock. In desperation, he upped his game.

 

_“I could be brown, I could be blue, I could be violet sky. I could be hurtful, I could be purple, I could be anything you like…”_

And somehow, hearing _BA_ singing like _Mika_ in a ridiculous falsetto was so unnerving that it finally did the job and Hannibal picked himself up off the bed, trailing over to flop at Murdock’s side where he was tapping away at the laptop, completely oblivious to the carnage going on across the room from him. “Murdock…”

 

“So, he’s tried holding his breath?”

 

It took Hannibal just a moment to catch up. “Of course, yes.”

 

“Standing on his head?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Drinking a glass of water?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Drinking a glass of water, standing on his head?”

 

“Yes.” He had as well and Hannibal had ended up being sprayed in the face by the water as he tried to hold the glass for the kid.

 

“Being frightened by someone?”

 

“You know he has.” If Hannibal heard Murdock yell, “Boo!” one more time this side of Halloween he felt he’d strangle the Captain.

 

“Breathing into a bag?”

 

“Yes.” Right then, that solution fairly appealed to Hannibal as well.

 

“Eating a large spoonful of peanut butter?”

 

“Murdock – this is Face. There wasn’t any low-fat peanut butter in the 7-Eleven, so, no.”

 

Murdock frowned. “So that’s the same for sugar on or under the tongue then as well?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Has he taken a long bath or shower, immersed his face in ice-cold water, stood on a chair in his pants singing ‘Comin’ Round the Mountain’ while eating low-sugar granola with a fork?”  

 

Hannibal blinked. “No. You think that’d help?”

 

“Nah…” Murdock giggled inanely, “But it sure would be funny.”

 

With a theatrical sigh, Hannibal pushed up off his chair, “Murdock, this isn’t helping! You don’t seem to see how import-“

 

“Looks like this is all you’ve got left then, bossman.” Murdock, unperturbed as ever, swung the laptop screen Hannibal's way and Hannibal froze, eyes widening at the words that seemed to be doing a victory jig all of their own on the screen in front of him.

 

___________________

 

Face ignored the polite tapping at the door, although he’d long ago unlocked the latch – hoping for some rest and not relishing having to get up to let Hannibal back in.

 

He still had the hiccups though and now his chest hurt, his belly hurt, his throat hurt; he was starving hungry, desperate for sleep and totally fed up, the last thing his needed at this trough in his life was to go through all of _that_ with Hannibal again.

 

_*Hic*_

 

“You still got the hiccups, baby?” Face felt the bed behind him dip as Hannibal cautiously sat down.

 

“Apparently so, Colonel-Fucking- _*Hic*_ -Obvious.”

 

Hannibal winced, he could hear the pain and dejection in Face’s tones.

 

“Well,” he was treading really, really carefully now. “Murdock and I have been doing some research and we’ve found something that might help you.”

 

The long sigh was not encouraging. “Yeah? Is it me standing on a _*Hic*_ chair, naked, eating cotton candy and singing ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’? ‘Cause if it is you can tell Murdock to go _*Hic*_ fuck himself.”

 

For a moment Hannibal marvelled, yet again, at how similar Face and Murdock could be at times – he wasn’t sure if that should worry him. He shook it off though, there were bigger – and harder – issues at stake here. “No,” he pushed the laptop across the bed, “Look at that.”

 

He counted them out, the five seconds it took for Face to read the big white words on the screen, but the reaction was not what he’d been hoping for. First, Face gave out a little, flat laugh and then, “ _’Termination of intractable *Hic*_ _hiccups with digital rectal massage_ ’? Jesus, Hannibal, I cannot believe that you are _*Hic*_ that desperate for a piece of my ass that you’d get BA to do you a fake web page and everything! That’s sad, plain _*Hic*_ and simple.”

 

“No!” somehow that hurt far more than it should ever have done. “That’s not it at all, kid, honest! It’s a proper website, a proper paper written by a proper Doctor and everything! Look, it was in the _Annals of Emergency Medicine_! Volume 17! Doctor Francis Fesmire of the University of Tennessee College of Medicine! It’s all above board and totally kosher! Honestly, kid!” Fuck – he really hoped it was…

 

Face had flopped down onto the bed once more but slowly his head lifted up and his eyes turned back to the screen. Hannibal watched silent and baited as those wonderful blue eyes flicked back and forth, back and forth before Face was done and he lay back on the bed once more, his back jolting as another hiccup ran through him.

 

“This is not about sex?”

 

“No,” Hannibal was only half-lying. “It’s about making you feel better.” _So that, later on, we can have sex._

 

Face though some more. “ _*Hic*_ Just your finger?”

 

“I swear.”

 

“ _One_ finger. No cocks. No tongues. No ‘fun’ objects. I know you, don’t forget. _*Hic*_ ”

 

“I swear,” Hannibal repeated quietly and Face blew out a long breath.

 

“Okay. _Anything_ is better than _*Hic*_ this.”

 

_________________

 

Hannibal went to find lube whilst Face got himself ready and when he came out of the en-suite he almost shot his load all over the inside of his pants at the sight of his boy wearing nothing but a navy blue PT t-shirt and white socks on his hands and knees on the bed, his head resting on a pile of pillows. He looked fucking edible. _*Hic*_ And miserable as sin.

 

Willing his dick to behave, Hannibal climbed up on the bed next to him, squeezing a generous blob of lube on his fingers and rubbing them together to warm it. “So the article said to do it for a minute,” his fingers trailed a syrupy path down the cleft of Face’s ass. “You okay with that?”

 

Face nodded _*Hic*_ and Hannibal shifted position, getting comfortable and also glimpsing Face’s own cock, looking pale and shrivelled and totally despondent – just like Face himself – as it hung down from its owner’s body. A pang of sympathy, sharp and tragic, ran through him and his face heated as he remembered the way he’d badgered the kid for sex earlier on. His finger moved lower, found its goal, and with practiced ease, slid in.

 

This was normally the point where Face started moaning and begging. _‘Oh, fuck, boss! Yeah… More, more, more! Want you, want your cock, oh yeah… that’s it…’_ There were no such pleas tonight though, just another violent _*Hic*_ that Hannibal actually _felt_ , rather strangely, all around his finger. He set about banishing the phantom, wanton voice from his head and concentrated instead on what his finger was doing, probing, smoothing, touching, _loving -_ it was intoxicating. 

 

Time slid on. The room was semi-dark, heavy in silence and Hannibal stared, transfixed, at the point where his finger slid seamlessly into Face’s body. He watched that familiar muscle, shining with lube, as it flexed and gripped. He ran his free hand up and down that beautiful curved spine, marvelling at the smooth, bronze skin as it shimmered in the light from the laptop under his palm.

 

“Boss…”

 

Face sounded strained, in pain even and instantly Hannibal stilled, leaning down to look at his boy’s face, wondering if his unorthodox cure had actually made things worse. His worry only tripled at what he saw though, Face was sweating, his eyes tightly shut, his brow creased, his chest heaving as he panted against the pillows. The finger stilled, slowly started to withdraw and then those blue eyes opened, shot open, and fixed Hannibal with their heavily dilated pupils. “Boss,” Face repeated, the tone of his voice now blatantly obvious as it landed right in his groin. “I need you…”

 

“No,” the finger stayed where it was and Hannibal couldn’t believe what he was saying. “That’s not what this is, kid, remember? This is just about making you feel better.”

 

“I feel better,” Face’s eyes were closed again, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “And I feel horny.”

 

Hannibal swallowed and glanced down the kid’s toned belly almost groaning in desire at the heavy, red erection he could see hanging there, a trail of crystal precum dripping down onto the duvet. “I swore…” he had – and he took that seriously, very seriously; there was no way he’d be going back on that, despite the way the little Colonel was already trying to undo his zipper all on its own.

 

“Please…” now Face was moving, undulating that perfect ass around Hannibal's single finger, his breath shorting every time he forced a pad up against his own prostate. “Please, just fuck me…”

 

“Jesus Christ…” Hannibal was panting himself and he could feel the wet patch on the front of his combats growing with every second. “ _I promised…_ ”

 

“You promised to be there for me,” Face almost gasped. “Remember that? That night in Germany? You said you’d always be there if I needed you, and I need you now.” Those blue eyes flicked open once more. “Make love with me, John.”

 

And that was it. Hannibal's combats were around his knees before he’d even taken a breath, his cock, hard and heavy, gleaming with precum, was stretching towards Face’s ass all on its own. “I love you,” he whispered, fumbling like a high-schooler as he lined himself up. “Shit, Temp, I love you so much.”

 

They only ever did this when they were in bed. They only ever pulled out those names for the times that everything was so sharp but muted, so real but dreamlike, times just like now. Hannibal moaned, long and low as he pushed in, Face grunted in sheer pleasure as that huge cock pressed right up against his prostate, making him see stars on every single slide in and out.

 

They soon found their rhythm, Hannibal's hand was firmly around Face’s cock, Face’s fingers wrapped around Hannibal’s and they moved like the pros they were, shifting and sliding and moaning and gasping as the speed slowly, slowly crept up.

 

And then, with a hissed, “Fuck…” Hannibal lost his control, lost his calm stroking and went for it, hips snapping, hand flying over Face’s flesh until he came,  a strangled cry ripped from him as he emptied three weeks’ worth of love and care and _adoration_ into the love of his life. Face was right behind him, shuddering and convulsing as his come was expertly milked out of him until he was empty and weak and, together, they collapsed down into the puddle of Face’s seed.

 

They lay in silence, tangled up together, sticky and sweaty, but sated and happy – drifting towards sleep maybe until…

 

_*Hic*_

Two pairs of eyes flicked open and stared at each other in the half light, two brows creased in confusion. The silence was back, the moment passed and then…

 

 _*Hic*_  

 

This time Face couldn’t hold it in, exploding with helpless laughter even as Hannibal struggled free from his arms. “Really, kid-”

 

But Face just laughed some more.

“-I’d’ve thought that you would have had a little more _*Hic*_ sympathy!”

 

Face laughed again, tears of mirth running down his cheeks, getting to his knees and swatting Hannibal playfully on the rump. “Jesus, boss…” he giggled, shifting his position a bit more. “The lengths some people go to just to get some bedroom action!” Hannibal's growl would have sounded more threatening without the high-pitched _*Hic*_ in the middle of it. “Come on, up you get, old man,” Face’s palm found Hannibal's ass once more. “Time for your _’Termination of intractable hiccups with digital rectal massage_ ’. You lucky, lucky man…”

 

It was only two minutes later when Hannibal found he had to agree.

 


End file.
